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KEEPER’S TRAVELS 


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IN SEARCH OF 


HIS MASTER. 


Ah me ! One moment fjrom thy sight 
That thus my truant eye should stray ! 


A NEW EDITION 
Revised. 


Boston: 

PUBLISHED BY LILLY, WAIT &c CO. 
PORTLAND: 

COLMAN, HOLDEN & COMPANY. 

1833. 

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Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1833, 
By Lillv, Wait, Colman, &. Holden, 

In the Clerk’s Office of the District Court of the Distiict of 
Massachusetts. 


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PREFACE. 


Among the numerous productions which in 
this age of improvement issue from the press, 
for the amusement and instruction of youth, 
this little volume again presents itself, for a 
share of public patronage. 

It was first published in London, in 1798 ; 
since then, an octavo edition has there ap- 
peared, entirely deficient in those points which 
give to this, its most attractive character ; the 
volume is swelled by dialogues on desultory 
subjects, generally in a prosing or turgid style, 
which, however instructive in themselves, 
seem to us to have no connexion with Keep- 
er’s adventures, and occasion the touching 
moral of his story to be completely lost sight 
of. It was at an early period in the excellence 
of juvenile literature, that this little book, to- 
gether with Sandford and Merton, and a few 
others, obtained their celebrity ; for it was gen- 
erally to mediocre talents that children’s books 
were intrusted, under the impression that any 
one could write them. 


4 


VI 


PREFACE. 


Fortunately so mistaken an idea has been 
corrected, and the best talents are now exerted 
for the young ; but we feel anxious that our 
early favorites should be preserved, even among 
the many of the present day. 

The author of Keeper’s travels is unknown ; 
he must however have been gifted with a feel- 
ing heart and good understanding, if we may 
judge him by the pathos and instruction of 
this story. It is intended to show the results 
of a single error ; and we think that Keeper’s 
indefatigable search for his master, should im- 
press on our little readers the affection and 
fidelity, so remarkable in the dog, and induce 
them always to treat so deserving an animal 
with kindness. 

The interesting subject, simplicity of lan- 
guage, and plain moral of this book, must ren- 
der it valuable to the child and parent, and the 
editor offers it for the perusal of both, with a 
certainty that it will excite pleasure and ap- 
probation. 


CONTENTS. 


Chap. 

I. THE DILEMMA - 

II. THE ESCAPE - 

III. THE REFUGE - 

IV. THE ACCIDENT - 

V. THE BLUNDERBUSS 

VI. RUMINATIONS - 

VII. CAROLINE - 

VIII. THE POST-CHAISE 

IX. DOGS - - - - 

X. THE HERMIT AND HIS DOG 

XI. THE DEPARTURE 

XII. A SKIRMISH - 

XIII. THE NIGHTINGALE 

XIV. THE EPITAPH - 

XV. THE RABBIT-WARREN - 

XVI. THE CONTRAST OF BRUTALITY 
AND SENSIBILITY 


Taga 

9 

15 

18 

21 

26 

30 

37 


41 

45 

51 

53 

61 

67 

71 

74 

77 


Vlll 


CONTENTS 


XVII. THE FALL OF SNOW 

- 83 

XVIII. DISAPPOINTMENT 

i 

00 

CO 

XIX. COURAGE 

- 92 

XX. THE DISCOVERY 

- 98 

XXI. ILLUSIONS 

- 99 

XXII. keeper’s MASTER - 

- 103 

XXIII. THE POEM 

108 

XXIV. THE CONCLUSION 

- 109 


4 • * *:.*♦ * • 

♦ . • 





KEEPER’S TRAVELS, 


IN SEARCH 

OF HIS MASTER. 


CHAP. I. 

THE DILEMMA. 

Keeper followed his master not only 
faithfully but with care : yet it happened 
that being at a town in Gloucestershire, on 
the market-day, he was so attentive to half- 
a-dozen fowls that were in a basket, stand- 
ing for sale, that his master was out of sight 
before our dog could persuade himself to 
leave the favorite objects of allurement. 

Recovering himself, at length, he ran 
with haste and anxiety ; but unable to dis- 
cover the way his master had gone, and 
prevented by the multitude of people from 
seeing any person at a distance, the poor 
thing stood despairingly looking round to 


10 


KEEPER’S TRAVELS. 


no purpose, and sometimes running every- 
way, in vain. He went back to the fowls 
where he had first forgotten his duty; 
he hastened from shamble to shamble, 
whither he had been with his master, in the 
course of the day, hoping to find him there 
again. His misery increased every mo- 
ment. Accustomed to regard his master 
as the only source of his happiness ; to re- 
ceive from him his food, and his comforts; 
to know no pleasure but his smiles ; nor any 
evil but his anger : he stood, now, forlorn, 
stripped, helpless, and unprotected. The 
market-people at length dispersed ; and, as 
the street became more open, he frequently 
fancied that he saw the object of his search 
among the distant passengers ; and he spent 
the greater part of the day in fruitless sal- 
lies, to overtake the different persons who 
bore any resemblance to him, with whom 
were all his hopes. 

It was twilight, when, weary and op- 
pressed, both with anxiety and with hunger, 


KEEPER’S TRAVELS. 


11 


he visited, for the sixth time, the inn at 
which they had put up on their entrance of 
the town. Had they been used to fre- 
quent this place, or its neighborhood, not 
only our wanderer would have readily 
found his way to the home stead ; but the 
hostler would, in all probability, recogni- 
sing the attendant of a customer, have pro- 
vided for his wants, and restored him to 
his owner : but the travellers had never vis- 
ited the place before. They had journey- 
ed this road for the first time, and their 
home was in Cambridgeshire; whither the 
master, after a search as anxious, made 
with an affection as sincere, and of which 
it need not be said, that it was equally un- 
successful with that we have described, had 
now directed his course, frequently looking 
back for his companion, and pleasing him- 
self with the hope that he should soon be 
overtaken by him. 

Keeper entered the inn with the most 
disconsolate deportment He hastened to 


12 


KEEPER’S TRAVELS. 


the apartment in which his master had been 
accommodated. Disappointed still, he 
visited the stable where the horses had been 
lodged : and the kitchen where the servant 
had refreshed. Here still unable to dis- 
cover his master, yet surrounded by towns- 
men and laborers who were regaling 
themselves before a large fire, he gave way 
to little expressions of his sorrow. He ut- 
tered those mournful plainings that want no 
words to render them intelligible : that uni- 
versal language which is every where un- 
derstood, by the inhabitant of every region, 
and by all orders of beings. For nature 
has so finely attuned the ears of all her 
creatures, that the sounds of misfortune, 
and of sorrow, never fail to win attention ; 
and with such skill has she set the notes, 
that they cannot be misconceived. 

This unquietness and solicitude natu- 
rally drew the eyes of the company upon 
him£ and every one inquired whose dog 


KEEPER’S TRAVELS. 


13 


in the market-place ; and was certain he 
did not belong to any of the towns-people. 
A second did think him very like a dog 
that belonged to a neighbor of his; and 
really he should have thought it the same, 
only that the animal he spoke of died three 
years before of old age. Another was al- 
most positive that it belonged to the ’squire : 
but the hostler contradicted this vehement- 
ly. It was no more like any dog of the 
’squire’s, he said, than it was like his 
grandmother. The other grew more cer- 
tain from this contradiction. He particu- 
larized the dog he alluded to ; and now the 
whole party joined against him — declaring 
that he could know nothing of dogs, or he 
would never have said any such thing. 
They were all agreed that the breed was 
quite different. Irritated by this reflection 
on his knowledge, the disputant thought it 
impossible to recede from his error. W ould 
his opponents have acknowledged that his 
opinion was not wrong, as a sportsman, or 


14 


KEEPER’S TRAVELS 


that the breed was the same in the two dogs, 
he would willingly have given up the con- 
test : but, as this was not to be granted him, 
he grew more obstinate than ever, and of- 
fered a wager — which has been called a 
fool's argument — on the question ; this was 
readily accepted, and stakes settled. Dur- 
ing this debate each had by turns made 
Keeper welcome to their hearth, and a 
partaker of their meal. Relieved from 
the faintness of hunger, and cheered by 
the warmth of the fire, Keeper fell asleep, 
expecting the return of his master. The 
evening thus passed away as comfortably 
as his anxiety would permit; and during 
the night he was sheltered in a warm sta- 
ble, where the hostler secured him, in 
order that he might be ready in the morn- 
ing to determine the wager. 


KEEPER’S TRAVELS 


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KEEPER’S TRAVELS. 


17 


CHAP. II. 

THE ESCAPE. 

Keeper slept, and recovered himself 
from the fatigues of the day : but when light 
began to peep through the crevices of the 
stable, he rose to seek again the master he 
had lost. Unable, however, to leave what 
was now his prison, he whined a conside- 
rable time ; ’till he became sleepy again, 
and, for a short period, forgot his troubles. 
He would not have been so well satisfied 
with his lodgement, had it not happened to 
be the same in which his master’s horses 
had been baited ; and on this account he 
considered himself as in some degree at 
home. 

He had not lain many minutes before 
he was awakened by the opening of the 
door. He immediately rushed, barking 
furiously, to repel the intrusion ; and the 

boy, who had attempted to enter, and who 
2 


18 


KEEPER’S TRAVELS. 


was unacquainted with the reasons for the 
detention of his foe, immediately fled. 

Keeper was now at liberty, and he in- 
stantly ran into the house, visiting every 
chamber-door. This search was like his 
former, unsuccessful ; he quitted the inn, 
unobserved by the hostler; and took the 
road by which he had, the day before, en- 
tered the town with his master. He ran 
hastily along, without stopping to notice 
any thing, resolved to seek the house of a 
friend of his master, on whom they had 
called during their journey. This was 
considerably out of the direct homeward 
way, but here he hoped to find his master ; 
and if he should not, still it was to him the 
only road : because the utmost of his know- 
ledge, correct, and surprising as it was, 
could only help to trace back the very steps 
he had trodden before. He had travelled 
two hours without experiencing any thing 
that deserves to be recorded, when he en- 
tered a large town. He had indeed re- 


KEEPER’S TRAVELS. 


19 


ceived two or three lashes from wagoners 
and coachmen, unprovoked, and without 
other motives than that the men had whips 
in their hands, and the dog was unable to 
avoid or resist their cruelty. Such tempt- 
ations to the exercise of power are seldom 
neglected by the low and the ignorant ; 
and there are these in every rank of life. 
Those who have neither wit nor knowledge, 
do mischief that they may be thought ca- 
pable of doing something; and those to 
whom no respect is paid, because none is 
due, love to insult , that they may fancy 
themselves mighty. He had scarcely gone 
twenty feet into Tetbury , when a rabble of 
idle children began to hoot the forlorn stran- 
ger. Dismayed by their noise, he ran for- 
ward and might have escaped their perse- 
cution, had not the common inclination to 
trouble the troubled, induced a band of 
butchers, and other tradesmen, to join in the 
hunt. These, with a refinement peculiar 
to reasoning animals, knew how to render 


20 


KEEPER’S TRAVELS. 


even virtue subservient to evil ; making use 
therefore of the obedience of their dogs, 
they urged them, also, to unite in the hor- 
rors of the scene. Keeper found his pur- 
suers gaining upon him, when, seeing a 
door open, he fled into the house, and 
tacitly claimed the protection of the place. 
It may be observed of dogs, that they al- 
ways regard houses as their sanctuaries ; 
that, when fatigued, lost, or in danger, 
they constantly seek in these for rest and 
consolation ; and that, while other animals 
shun man and his abodes, dogs seem to 
place their hopes and their confidence in 
both. 


CHAP. III. 

THE REFUGE. 

Keeper had now escaped the malice of 
his tormentors, and lay trembling in the 
passage of the house : there they might 


KEEPER’S TRAVELS. 


21 


not follow him ; for it was occupied by an 
opulent inhabitant, who would of course re- 
sent their intrusion, and whom they dared 
not offend. Thus the power of the rich act- 
ing on the interests of the poor, it restrains 
their vices with an energy, and persistency, 
that no police nor statutes can maintain. 

Alarmed by the noise in the streets, the 
old lady of the house came to inquire the 
cause. The troop of vagabonds had dis- 
persed ; but she found Keeper, covered 
with dirt, and terrified by his danger ; and 
she learned from the servants the causes of 
his condition. She encouraged the fugi- 
tive, and she offered him food. The first 
he received with gratitude ; but the second, 
his fright, and his weariness, prevented him 
from accepting. He was washed from the 
filth that had been thrown upon him. The 
lady led him to her own fire, and in an 
hour he recovered his spirits, his strength, 
and his beauty. He was invigorated with 
food, and with caresses ; and he acknow 


22 


KEEPER’S TRAVELS. 


ledged the blessing by the language of his 
eyes, and the cheerfulness of his demeanor. 
Yet, well as he was treated, he did not forget 
the journey he was about, nor the object of 
his toil : but he dreaded to leave the house ; 
he heard his pursuers in his fancy : and he 
started from his dreams to escape them. 

It was near dinner time, when his pro- 
tector’s daughter, with her children, came 
to visit her ; and Keeper was naturally in- 
troduced as a subject of novelty and com- 
miseration. The children soon became 
familiar with him. They gave him pieces 
of cake to secure his friendship ; and there 
was, beside, something in his nature that 
made him particularly tender to children : 
with them he assumed a gentleness that did 
not always belong to his character. For 
though never intentionally violent, and con- 
stantly good-natured, his play was, some- 
times, boisterous and rude. This, on such 
occasions, he laid entirely aside ; so that if 
he had before won protection and succor 


KEEPER'S TRAVELS. 


23 


by his misfortunes, he might now have 
secured them by his disposition and his 
beauty. 

Dinner being ended, Keeper followed 
the children into the garden, where there 
was a small piece of water, then frozen 
over, on which his little company were 
veiy desirous he should walk, that they 
might see if he understood skating. 


CHAP. IV. 

THE ACCIDENT. 

Keeper was presently heard scratching 
at the parlor door ; but his importunities 
were for some moments neglected. He 
then whined and barked with violence, and 
with an expression of agony that roused 
the attention of the company, who opened 
the door to be released from the noise of 
his entreaties. This was no sooner done 
than he rushed from it, panting for breath, 


24 


KEEPERS’ TRAVELS. 


and barking earnestly. Finding that he 
was not followed, he returned again still 
restless and almost frantic. It was some 
moments before it was recollected, that 
dogs never behave in that manner without 
some cause : that, though they are not al- 
ways competent to judge of the extent of 
the danger they apprehend, their vigilance 
may be relied on as unremitting, and their 
warnings regarded as useful ; and that the 
sympathetic sensibility of their nature en- 
ables them to distinguish, owing to their in- 
timacy with man, between his welfare and 
his disasters. Calling therefore to mind that 
the children were in the garden, the whole 
company now followed Keeper, who ran 
and returned several times, before they 
could reach the spot, where, to their horror, 
they beheld only one of the three children, 
and this stood crying. The dog ran upon 
the ice the middle of which was broken. 
The poor distressed creature scratched the 
margin of the crack, and whined in violent 


KEEPER’S TRAVELS. 


2 a 


agitation. The only gentleman of the par- 
ty leaped into the water. The mother of 
the children fainted. The servants being 
alarmed, assisted in the search, which was 
long, and could not be prosecuted without 
breaking the remaining ice. The appa- 
ratus of the Humane Society was not to 
be had ) but a surgeon in the town under- 
stood the means of recovery recommended 
by that institution — An institution that will 
give, to the memory of Hawkes, a mon- 
ument which time shall enlarge and adorn, 
while he corrodes the statue of brass and 
moulders away the pillars of marble. — For- 
tunately, the surgeon arrived at the moment 
when one of the bodies was found. The 
other, also, was soon after discovered. 
The delay which had attended the search 
rendered the restoration of life difficult. It 
was, however, accomplished. Keeper lay 
by the si3e of the bed, during the process ; 
and the children being left warmly covered, 
he returned with the rest of the company, 
3 


26 


KEEPER’S TRAVELS. 


in an agony of joy, to the parlor. Joy 
was, indeed, in every countenance ; and it 
was an affecting situation, could Keeper 
have felt it, to be at least the second cause, 
and means made use of, to give pleasure 
so excessive to a circle thus numerous. 
The mother shed tears while she caressed 
the preserver of her children ; and all were 
desirous to show their affection for a crea- 
ture that had done so much service. The 
old lady imputed the circumstance of 
Keeper’s visit to a special Providence for 
the protection of her grandchildren ; and 
the vicar, who had benevolently assisted, 
said he thought it could not be deemed an 
improper or low application of the text, if 
he applied to this event the promise that 
has been made, that the gift of even a 
cup of cold water , bestoived for kind- 
ness 1 sake , and charity 1 s , shall not lose its 
reward ! ‘We see,’ added he, c we see 
that no creature is so low, nor so weak, but 
it may do us infinite service — the mouse 


KEEPER’S TRAVELS. 


27 


released a lion from confinement, as our 
friend iEsop has recorded. And if, there- 
fore, this were the only motive, we should 
for our own sokes , behave well to every 
thing — I say, this consideration ought to 
influence us, even if we forget that none 
but fools and cowards can find any grati- 
fication in hurting what is weaker than 
themselves ; if we forget that none but the 
cruel would unnecessarily injure any thing ; 
if we forget that none but the wicked would 
dare to insult any of the creatures of God,’ 

1 Who in his sovereign wisdom made them all ! 

COWPER. 

‘And be sure,’ continued he, addressing 
himself to the child who had not fallen into 
the water, ‘ be sure, my dear, you never 
pretend to think the smallness or trifling- 
ness of the creature, beast, bird, fish, insect, 
or reptile, any excuse of your crime : for, 
remember, 

1 the meanest things that are 

Are free to live, and to enjoy that life, 

As God was free to form them at the first ! ’ 

Cowper. 


KEEPER’S TRAVELS. 


28 

♦ 

Every indulgence was heaped upon 
Keeper ; and many plans were laid down 
for his future happiness : but Keeper left 
them only the merit of intention : for late 
at night, perceiving the street quiet, and 
summoning courage to depart, he left the 
house unobserved, and continued his jour- 
ney. 


CHAP. V. 

THE BLUNDERBUSS. 

The night was dark, yet he pursued the 
track, which, by the wonderful sagacity 
common to his species, he was enabled to 
recognise. He went as fast as his strength 
would permit ; but this was much exceeded 
by his impatience. He passed alone and 
unmolested the greater part of the night. 
He was sometimes overtaken and met by 
mail coaches; and terrified by their lamps. 
He passed inns where the sleepy helpers 
brought out harnessed horses to be chang- 


KEEPER’S TRAVELS. 


29 


ed, and in these inns he would gladly have 
sought a place of rest and shelter from the 
coldness of the air : but the ardor with 
which he sought his master would not suf- 
fer delay ; and at daybreak discovered him 
to the early laborer, still pressing onward 
with swift and even pace. 

He was interrupted during a few min- 
utes by a hare, that crossed his path; in 
pursuit of whom he traversed several acres 
of crisp and frost- whitened wheat. Having 
driven puss into a thorny thicket, whither 
he found it difficult to follow her, he gave 
up the chase, and returned with the haste 
of a truant to the road of his journey. 

Though this frolic had wasted a small 
portion of his time, and contributed to 
weary his feet, yet was it, on the whole, 
very beneficial to him. The violence of 
the exertion had warmed his frozen limbs, 
and he returned with renewed vigor to his 
path. 

He was now descending a hill, and he 


30 


KEEPERS TRAVELS. 


ran down with all the speed he could, for 
he recollected that in the bottom was a 
small inn, where his master had stopped, 
and he would fain persuade himself that 
there he should find him again. This hope 
cheered his bosom ; and he felt a glow of 
pleasure to which he had long been a stran- 
ger. He delighted himself; and it would 
have been an unthankful office to have 
destroyed his expectations. 

* Pursue, poor imp, the imaginary charm, 

Indulge gay hope, and fancy’s pleasing fire : 
Fancy and hope, too soon, shall of themselves 
expire.’ Beattie. 

The sign-post appeared in view, and 
every nerve was strained to reach the goal 
of his hopes. A traveller on horseback 
was at the door ; and he thought that he 
resembled his master. The traveller look- 
ed towards him ; and he wondered that he 
was not greeted, returning, wanderer as he 
was, with some token of affection and of 
joy. He feared that his master took no 


KEEPER’S TRAVELS. 


31 






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KEEPER’S TRAVELS. 


33 


notice of him because he was angry ; and 
he prepared to prostrate himself at his feet, 
and implore his forgiveness. He reached 
the house, and he approached the horse- 
man, only to discover his mistake, and to 
destroy his hopes ; and in the moment of 
his disappointment, the man who was wa- 
tering the horse threw what remained in 
the pail upon him. This was a trifling 
misfortune ; but, in his present distress, it 
affected him ; and he thought himself the 
object of general persecution. He went 
on, while the man laughed to see him wet 
and shivering. The water presently froze 
in his hair ; and increased his coldness and 
his misery. He travelled four miles far- 
ther, and entered a town wherein the mail 
stopped. The dangers of the night being 
at an end, the guard, as usual, discharged 
the contents of his piece. In performing 
this mighty feat, it is usual also to do some 
mischief, if possible. Keeper’s sorrowful 
appearance attracted the eyes of the hero, 


34 


KEEPER’S TRAVELS. 


at this unfortunate moment : he levelled a 
blunderbuss at our unsuspecting and plod- 
ding traveller, and, in an instant some 
small-shot were lodged near his shoulder, 
while a ball grazed his back, but happily- 
passed over without inflicting a severer 
wound. Keeper did not immediately feel 
the shot. He winced from the smart 
which the ball presently occasioned. He 
was scared, too, by the report of the gun, 
and the shouts of his enemies : and he fled 
precipitately from the inhospitable place. 


CHAP. VI. 

Where shall he rest secure from harms ? — beattie. 

The extreme terror with which Keeper 
hurried through the town, prevented him 
from feeling the extent of the injury he 
had received. Gaining, at last, the open 
and unfrequented road, his fears began to 


KEEPER’S TRAVELS. 


35 


abate ; and with them the rapidity of his 
steps. The blood, which had hitherto 
flowed unperceived, now began to mat his 
hair in congealed and frozen clots; and 
his stiffening joints soon rendered motion 
difficult and painful. His wounds were 
pierced by the keen air ; and he limped 
along, slowly, and in torture. 

His sufferings increased his weariness, . 
and overcome by their acuteness, he lay 
down under a hayrick, and folded up his 
legs, curling his body round to protect him- 
self from the blast. He would have slept, 
but the anguish he endured denied him 
even a short respite from his sorrows. He 
lay pondering his condition : and if he an- 
ticipated no evils to come , the same ig- 
norance of future events, which men some- 
times inconsiderately envy, shut from him 
the hope of deliverance from those he al- 
ready experienced. He did not espy death , 
in the gloomy rear of his disasters, ‘ making 
night hideous : ’ but he thought himself 


KEEPER’S TRAVELS. 


36 

confined forever to his present bleak and 
unsheltered abode. He dreaded no mor- 
tification in his wounds, nor no fever in his 
pulse ; but neither had he any prospect of 
relief from the excruciating pang that now 
oppressed him. He despaired of seeing 
again the master of his heart. He believ- 
ed that his presence would remove all 
evils : for he remembered his kindness with 
enthusiasm, and his capacities with ad- 
miration: and when you have blended 
benevolence with power you have made a 
divinity. 

These ruminations were disturbed by 
the noise of men and terriers, who were in 
pursuit of rats across the farm yard ; and 
who, discovering Keeper, immediately 
turned a portion of their fury against him. 
Keeper was roused by their approach, and 
hastily gained the road, where he limped 
along, with all the expedition he could use, 
until he found himself delivered from his 
new danger. Hard and calamitous as this 


KEEPER'S TRAVELS. 


37 


intrusion on the repose of the weary, and 
the couch of the wounded, may appear, it 
was, in truth, a fortunate circumstance. 
For, had he lain any time exposed to the 
intenseness of the frost, his limbs would, in 
all probability, have become so completely 
numbed, that he could not have risen again ; 
and being besides deprived of his usual 
quantum of internal heat, by fatigue and 
hunger, the severity of the approaching 
night must have put an end to his exist- 
ence. 

But ‘ forced into action thus, in self- 
defence/ he preserved for the present the 
use of his muscles ; and proceeded, with 
infinite labor, on his way. The tardiness 
of his pace nevertheless, suffered his pow- 
ers of motion to diminish every moment ; 
and his condition conspired with the frigid 
atmosphere to bring on a drowsiness, to 
which he was repeatedly inclined to give 
way, and which must, inevitably, have 
been a fatal one. 


38 KEEPER’S TRAVELS. 

While thus dragging his miserable body, 
he could not help regarding men (the be- 
ings from whom he had received so many 
injuries) as monsters, whose whole occu- 
pation was to render every thing around 
them miserable. He was ready to ask, 

* Then what is man ? And what man seeing this, 
And having human feelings, does not blush 
And hang his head, to own himself a man ? ’ 

Cowpek. 

He knew some exceptions. Had he 
not been well treated by some, even in his 
present pilgrimage, he had been led to sup- 
pose that all the kindness he had ever re- 
ceived from strangers, had been bestowed 
upon him because, in his master's presence, 
they dared not use him ill : for of the good- 
ness, skill, and strength, which he attribut- 
ed to his master, he was inclined to believe 
that the generality of the race possessed 
only the two latter, and that they used 
these for no other purpose than to destroy. 

Fortunately, however, for the human 


KEEPER’S TRAVELS. 


39 


character, an individual was at hand to res- 
cue it from this universal stigma. 

The apothecary of the next village was 
trotting homeward, and the hoofs of his 
horse rung upon the frozen ground. Keep- 
er looked back and dreaded a new tor- 
mentor. The apothecary in the meantime, 
had watched the slow pace of the maimed 
and solitary traveller. On near approach 
he was so moved at the appearance of the 
poor disconsolate beast, that after walking 
by his side a few paces, and perceiving 
that he was lame, owing to a recent wound, 
he alighted in order to administer whatever 
comfort his benevolence and knowledge 
could afford. Keeper at first retreated; 
for a man , and that a stranger , seemed to 
him at this juncture, sufficient cause of 
alarm. The soothing voice with which he 
was invited soon overcame, notwithstand- 
ing, the fears he had entertained ; and led 
by the credulousness of sincerity, he ad- 
vanced towards the hand that offered to 


40 


KEEPER’S TRAVELS. 


cherish him. On coming close, he was 
farther encouraged by the countenance of 
the compassionate wayfarer. For nature 
has kindly provided all animals with instant 
perceptions of good and evil : and these 
perceptions are, perhaps, most strong and 
certain in infants and animals, because they 
are unprejudiced: while those of men 
are confused by accidental circumstances ; 
dress, general reputation, and a thousand 
others. 

The good man found that nothing could 
be done for Keeper’s relief in their present 
situation. It was useless to apply any bal- 
sam or ointment, while the wounds were 
covered with coagulated blood, mingled 
with hair. He was much at a loss how to 
get the dog to his own home ; both be- 
cause he doubted if he would follow him, 
and because he could not bear to see him 
walk in so much pain, with his hurts open 
to the evening frost. He tied his hand- 
kerchief over the part that was injured ; at 


KEEPER’S TRAVELS. 


41 


which operation Keeper complained loud- 
ly : because like some wiser creatures, he 
did not comprehend disutility of the tem- 
porary and seeming evil. He was soon, 
however, reconciled to the bandage, and 
felt its benefits. 

While the young surgeon was consider- 
ing whether he should try to carry Keeper 
on his horse, the errand cart overtook him. 
To the driver he committed the care of 
his protege , who placed him in a basket of 
straw. In this comfortable nest he in- 
dulged his propensity to sleep with safety; 
and was thus carried to the house of his 
benefactor. 


CHAP. VII. 

CAROLINE 

Keeper did not like to be disturbed in 
his slumbers, and forced from the warm 
bed in which he had ridden. Much less 
4 


42 


KEEPER’S TRAVELS. 


was he pleased with the useful operations 
which succeeded this hardship. His shoul- 
der was bathed wi^ warm milk and water ; 
and the hair cut away from the cicatrices , 
which began to bleed afresh. In perform- 
ing this essential and charitable office, the 
apothecary, who, till then, could not con- 
jecture how the wounds had been occa- 
sioned, discovered that several shot were 
lodged in a manner that endangered the 
future use of the limb. A task more 
important therefore remained ; that of 
extracting these shot ; and it was, unfortu- 
nately, of a nature that would render resist- 
ance on Keeper’s part, as certain, as trou- 
blesome. 

Keeper repented that he had surren- 
dered himself into the hands of one, who, 
as he thought, was like the rest of man- 
kind, devising every method of torturing 
him. He knew not that the pain he 
was made to suffer, was the means of his 
future preservation and comfort. 


KEEPER’S TRAVELS. 


43 


During the time in which the apothecary 
was thus employed, a neighbor came 
in to pass an hour in conversation, it 
being then dark evening, and he assist- 
ed the painful kindness of the operation. 
They bound Keeper, and secured his 
mouth so that he could neither resist 
nor resent the excruciating torture which 
they were obliged to inflict. Keeper 
suffered considerable agony, and by turns 
meditated vengeance on his tormentors, or 
submitted with patience to what he thought 
their cruel purpose. 

Released, at length, he no longer re- 
membered his resentments; but received 
their caresses with joy and gratitude. 
Ointments were now applied that cooled 
the throbbing sores. Bandages secured 
rest to the too much irritated parts ; and 
he was laid near the fire to enjoy again his 
slumbers and his repose. 

It was not, it should be told, wholly to 
the surgeon and his friend, that Keeper 


44 


KEEPER’S TRAVELS. 


owed all these attentions, nor was it these 
alone who witnessed and pitied his suffer- 
ings. It was Caroline who spread the 
lint with salve. It was Caroline who sew- 
ed the bandage ; and who folded it again 
and again to insure his comfort. It was 
Caroline who laid flannel or a mattrass; 
and who gave him the little milk, and 
bread and butter, which he could find ap- 
petite to take. These traits of loveliness 
did not pass unnoticed or unrewarded by 
a gentleman who had entered the room 
during her exertions. 

This gentleman happened to have pass- 
ed through the town in which the disaster 
happened, at the moment in which the 
blunderbuss was fired. He saw Keeper 
run away, but he did not then certainly 
know that he was wounded, his attention 
having been engrossed by an accident 
which the same act of wantonness had 
caused; and which had occasioned his 
present visit to the benevolent apothecary. 


KEEPER’S TRAVELS. 


45 


CHAP. VIII. 

THE POST-CHAISE. 

The guard had fired his blunderbuss at 
Keeper, at the instant when a chaise and 
four was passing rapidly through the high 
street. The horses took fright, and dash- 
ed the carriage against the cross in the 
middle of the town. The violence of the 
concussion overturned it ; and it was drag- 
ged by the horses, whose fright had in- 
creased, while the postilions were thrown, 
and great part of the harness and wheels 
broken. The gentleman who now called on 
our apothecary, being a magistrate, instant- 
ly ordered the guard into custody ; and, 
the horses being stopped, hastened to in- 
quire if any injury was sustained by the 
travellers. On coming near he discovered 
that it was the carriage of an old and inti- 
mate friend. He found that this gentle- 
man was only slightly bruised ; but that 


46 


KEEPER’S TRAVELS. 


his son, who was with him, had received 
several cuts and contusions, and was taken 
almost senseless to a surgeon in the town ; 
whence, his wounds having been dressed, 
he was removed to the house of the mag- 
istrate, their original destination. He now 
requested his medical friend to accompany 
him on a visit to the unfortunate young 
gentleman. They left Caroline, and their 
neighbor attending Keeper. They found 
a strong inclination to fever in the patient, 
whom the apothecary left, after a long vis- 
it, promising to call in the morning. 

Keeper’s illness was increased by his 
anxiety for his master. His spirits were 
always dejected : and even the kindness, 
and the kisses of the fair Caroline, failed 
to infuse his heart with permanent pleasure. 
His fellow-sufferer, Henry Walwyn, lay for 
a considerable time in very imminent dan- 
ger. It was three weeks before he was 
able to walk in the air. When he did, 
his friend introduced him to the house of 


KEEPER’S TRAVELS. 47 

the apothecary. He was desirous to see 
Keeper, who had shared the misfortunes 
of the day with him, and the benefactors 
also, who had now almost recovered him 
from the baleful effects of them. 

It will be supposed that great part of the 
conversation turned upon the accident they 
had encountered ; upon the misfortunes of 
Keeper, and the relief which had been 
administered to him. ‘I am acquainted 
with a gentleman,’ said the magistrate, 
4 who says he would always form his opinion 
of a man’s character by his behavior to 
dogs ; and though the rule might some- 
times misguide him, especially if too hasti- 
ly applied, I am of opinion that it would, 
in general, be a very just criterion.’ 

4 People sometimes behave ill to dogs,’ re- 
joined the apothecary , 4 not through settled 
dislike, or uniform ill-nature, but merely 
in the moments of petulance and impa- 
tience.’ 

4 Your discrimination,’ answered the 


48 


KEEPER’S TRAVELS. 


magistrate, ‘ fully directs your decision : 
for the man you describe is, more or less, 
a petulant man, though not of a settled 
bad disposition — I say bad disposition , 
because, adopting my friend’s maxim, I 
cannot think that there can be much that 
is worthy esteem in the character of a man 
who can ill use a creature so affectionate, 
and so faithful. I would risk no hopes of 
happiness with him : I should expect no- 
thing from his feeling, his generosity, nor 
his gratitude. He must be “ dead to na- 
ture and her charities.” 5 

4 1 agree with you, entirely ; ’ said the 
elder Mr. Walwyn, ‘ and if their assiduities 
are sometimes awkward, and their caresses 
troublesome, yet, surely, 

.< nothing can come amiss 

That simpleness and duty tender.’ 

Shakspeare. 


■ - 




d 


KEEPER’S TRAVELS. 


49 


CHAP. IX. 

DOGS. 

Keeper was now so far recovered, that 
his life was no longer in danger; nor was 
there any reason to doubt his soon having 
the full use of his leg that had been injur- 
ed : but he had not yet obtained strength 
sufficient to attempt the escape from his 
present abode, which he certainly meditat 
ed. Kindly as he was used, and it was 
impossible he could receive more kindness 
any where, he had not forgot the master 
who had formerly cherished him, and whom 
he had lost through his own negligence 
and inattention. He began to entertain a 
better opinion of mankind than he had 
lately been induced to form: but still, of 
all the race, he loved none so dearly as 
his master ; and next to him, his family. 

The conversation happened, one day, to 
bring on this subject. Caroline was much 


50 


KEEPER’S TRAVELS. 


grieved to hear it the general opinion that 
Keeper would leave her as soon as he was 
well. She urged the well known gratitude 
of the species, in contradiction of an idea 
which she thought at once disgraceful to 
Keeper’s character, and her attention. 

The magistrate said, he hoped the lady 
would forgive him, if he differed as to the 
inference to be drawn from the prevailing 
sentiment of gratitude : for, to him it seem- 
ed, that this very feeling would lead the 
dog to seek again his original owner. — The 
magistrate here enlarged on the virtues of 
dogs in general, and their characteristics. 

‘The understanding of dogs,’ he said, 
‘ surpasses that of all other animals, except 
man and the elephant.’ 

‘Are not apes and monkeys very sen- 
sible ?’ 

‘They are reckoned among the most 
stupid of quadrupeds ; ’ answered the mag- 
istrate : ‘ the appearance of understanding 
in them is entirely in consequence of the 


KEEPER’S TRAVELS. 


51 


resemblance which their form bears to that 
of man : but this similarity is, in fact, a 
convincing proof of their total want of ca 
pacity. Because, if they possessed this, 
in addition to the advantages of exterior 
conformation, they would never be sur- 
passed by the dog, and the elephant, and 
even the horse ; whose shape and organi- 
zation differs so widely from ours/ 

‘ To what then is the superiority of dogs 
to be attributed ?’ 

‘ To their sensibility. This makes them 
susceptible of affection, and capable of at- 
tachment. Nature has given them this 
disposition, which is improved by a con- 
stant society with man/ 

c That the qualifications of dogs,’ said 
the apothecary, £ depend materially on their 
education, is evident from the extreme dis- 
similarity of the habits and manners of dif- 
ferent individuals. They are even silent 
Gr noisy according to the company they are 
used to keep.’ 


52 


KEEPER'S TRAVELS. 


‘ Very true, r said Walwyn, ‘ the shep- 
herd’s dog, who is all day long upon silent 
and solitary downs, scarcely ever barks ; 
while ladies’ lap-dogs — I beg Caroline’s 
pardon — but, as she has no lap-dog, she 
will, perhaps, excuse my saying that, from 
some cause or other, lap-dogs are incessant- 
ly yelping.’ 

‘ I dislike small dogs very much on that 
account ; ’ said Caroline, ‘ and I think larger 
dogs are not only more silent, but better 
natured.’ 

‘They certainly are,’ said the magis- 
trate ; ‘ and in this particular, the mastiff 
surpasses all the rest of the species, per- 
haps. He has so much temperance and 
judgment, that, in performing the duty of 
a watch dog, he will permit a stranger to 
come into the yard, or place which he is 
appointed to guard ; and will go peaceably 
along with him through every part of it, so 
long as he touches nothing : but the mo- 
ment he attempts to meddle with any of 


KEEPER’S TRAVELS. 


53 


the goods, or endeavors to leave the place , 
he informs him, first by gentle growling, 
or, if that is ineffectual, by harsher means, 
that he must neither do mischief nor go 
away. He never uses violence unless re- 
sisted; and he will even in this case seize 
the person, throw him down, and hold him 
there for hours without biting.’ 

4 Will all mastiffs behave thus?’ 

4 Perhaps not : but this is their general 
character.’ 

4 The mastiff is peculiar to England, I 
believe ? ’ 

4 Entirely so : it is called the English 
Dog , by foreign naturalists.’ 

4 How many species of dogs are there ? ’ 

4 To answer you as a Zoologist, I should 
say, twenty-three : the varieties of the wolf, 
the hyaena, the jackal, and the fox, being 
included in that number : but I know that 
you rather intended to ask — How many 
varieties there are of what are commonly 
called dogs ? ’ 


54 


KEEPER’S TRAVEIiS. 


4 1 beg your pardon : I spoke incorrect** 
]y ; I thank you for setting me right. 
Pray do you recollect the number of vari- 
eties ? ’ 

‘It is, perhaps, impossible to reckon 
exactly ; they are almost without end. 
Thirty-five, however, with some sub- va- 
rieties, are described, as belonging to that 
species of dogs, if I recollect right, and 
which is called, the‘ faithful dog.’ 

‘ The dog then is naturally cruel ? ’ 

‘ He is : but his ferocious nature is con- 
quered by gentleness. He is not therefore 
a mere machine, but acts from sentiment, 
and reflection.’ 

‘ It has been charged on the spaniel, 
that man learned to fawn and be servile in 
imitation of that creature.’ 

‘ A witty writer, in a periodical paper, 
the 4 Mirror of the World, ’ I think, entirely 
changes, the accusation. After praising, 
being obliged at last to admit that they do 
fawn and flatter, and, sometimes even the 


KEEPER’S TRAVELS. 


55 


unworthy ; he says in extenuation, ‘ we 
ought to look with great lenity on this 
fault, in an animal, who, after six thousand 
years intimacy with man , has learned but 
one of his vices.’ 


CHAP. X. 

THE HERMIT AND HIS DOG. 

On another occasion, a similar conver- 
sation brought to the recollection of the 
company a beautiful little tale by Pratt : 
and, at their request, Walwyn read as fol- 
lows : 


‘ In life’s fair morn, I knew an aged Seer, 

Who sad and lonely passed his joyless year ; 
Betrayed, heart-broken, from the world he ran, 
And shunned, oh dire extreme ! the face of man ; 
Humbly he reared his hut within the wood, 
Hermit’s his vest, a hermit’s was his food. 

Nitched in some corner of the gelid cave, 

Where chilling drops the rugged rock-stone clave ; 
Hour after hour, the melancholy sage, 

Drop after drop to reckon would engage 


56 


KEEPER’S TRAVELS. 


The ling’ring day ; and trickling as they fell, 

A tear went with them to the narrow well. 

Then, thus he moralized, as slow it passed : 

‘This brings me nearer Lucia than the last ; 

And this now streaming from the eye,’ said he, 

‘ Oh my loved child, will bring me nearer thee ! * 

When first he roamed, his Dog with anxious care, 
His wand’rings watched as emulous to share. 

In vain the faithful brute was bid to go ; 

In vain the sorrower sought a lonely wo ; 

The hermit paused — the attendant dog was near, 
Slept at his feet, and caught the falling tear ; 

Up rose the hermit, up the dog would rise, 

And every way to win a master tries. 

‘Then be it so : come, faithful fool,’ he said, 

One pat encouraged, and they sought the shade. 
An unfrequented thicket soon they found, 

And both reposed upon the leafy ground. 
Mellifluous murm’ rings told the fountains nigh ; 
Fountains that well a pilgrim’s drink supply ; 

And thence by many a labyrinth is led, 

Where every tree bestowed a nightly bed. 

Skilled in the chase, the faithful creature brought 
Whate’er at noon, or moonlight course, he caught ; 
But the Sage lent his sympathy to all ; 

Nor saw, unwept, his dumb associates fall. 

He was, in sooth, the gentlest of his kind : 

And, though a hermit, had a social mind. 


KEEPER’S TRAVELS. 


57 


‘And why,’ said he, ‘ must man subsist by prey? 
Why stop yon melting music on the spray ? 

Why, when assailed by hounds’ and hunters’ cry, 
Must half the harmless race in terrors die ? 

Why must we work of innocence the wo ? 

Still shall this bosom throb, these eyes o’erflow ! 

A heart too tender, here, from man retires; 

A heart that aches, if but a wren expires ! ’ 

Thus lived the master good, the servant true, 

’Till to its God the master’s spirit flew. 

Beside a fount, which daily water gave, 

Stooping to drink, the hermit found a grave. 

All in the running stream his garments spread; 
And dark damp verdure ill concealed his head. 
The faithful servant from that fatal day, 

Watched the loved corse, and hourly pined away; 
His head upon his master’s cheek was found ; 
While the obstructed water mourned around ! 


CHAP. XI. 

THE DEPARTURE. 

It was on the morning after Walwyn 
had read this little poem, that Keeper, fresh 
from the repose of the night, and invited 
by the brightness of the landscape, deter- 


58 


KEEPER’S TRAVELS. 


mined to proceed on his pilgrimage to the 
house of his master’s friend. He left the 
gate before the family had risen ; and ran 
with a light heart, while the ground, cov- 
ered with hoar frost, reflected in ten thou- 
sand spangles, the brilliance of the rising 
sun. 

He had not advanced many paces before 
he fancied himself called by Caroline. He 
looked back ; he stopped ; and his spirits 
forsook him. The hope of seeing his mas- 
ter could scarcely support him under the 
affliction of leaving Caroline : she who had 
rescued him from misery, who had warmed 
and fed him ; who had nursed and cherish- 
ed him : he was not called ; yet he deter- 
mined to return once more to the doors that 
had been opened to his sufferings ; that had 
shut out persecution, at the moment when 
it seemed to follow him with hasty and un- 
relenting step. He returned, and loitered 
in the yard till Caroline appeared. He 
hastened to meet her with ecstasy. He 


KEEPER’S TRAVELS 


59 











ft 








60 


KEEPER’S TRAVELS. 


prostrated himself. He wished to be for- 
given the intention of leaving her ; he lick- 
ed her hand ; and he paid homage without 
flattery ; for it was the homage of affection 
and of gratitude. 

His behavior was so extravagant that 
Caroline imagined something extraordinary 
had happened ; but she did not guess that 
the little fugitive had attempted to leave 
her. He ran to the farthest extremity of 
the yard: he returned, and tearing round 
her, bounded again to a considerable dis- 
tance ; lessening, however, the extent of 
his sallies at every repetition ; and again 
rushed upon her to express his joy at be- 
holding her again. 

He remained the whole of that day, un- 
able to conquer his reluctance to leave 
Caroline, and the apothecary: the night 
however was passed in making resolutions 
for the morning ; and agreeably with these, 
no sooner were the doors open, than Keep- 
er set forward on his journey. 


KEEPER'S TRAVELS. 


61 


The morning was fine, like that of the 
day preceding. Keeper was tolerably 
strong, though he had not wholly recov- 
ered his former activity; and the weather 
prompted that speed which best suited the 
impatience of his wishes. His progress 
was pleasant and uninterrupted, except in 
a single instance. Four or five oxen were 
grazing on the side of the road, and Keeper 
was obliged to pass them. He looked 
about for a by-way, that might enable him 
to avoid them. It was in vain : summon- 
ing, therefore, all his fortitude, he crept, 
cowering, slouching his ears, and hanging 
his tail, for they had already left the herb- 
age, and menaced his approach. The 
humility with which he advanced did not 
reconcile his opponents. They rushed fu- 
riously towards him. They lowered their 
heads as in the act of butting. Keeper 
was now surrounded. Death seemed in- 
evitable. The poor unoffending Keeper 
was to be the victim of their fury, and the 


62 


KEEPER’S TRAVELS. 


sport of their tyrannous strength. In this 
moment of danger, bewildered, and almost 
terrified to stupefaction ; encompassed on 
every side, and on the point of surrender- 
ing without hope, and without capability 
of resistance, Keeper, as the last effort, 
made a desperate sortie : passing under 
one of his most determined assailants, and 
receiving a slight graze from the horns of 
another, he leaped on the frozen pool, 
hoping to cross it, and thus escape his 
pursuers. Unfortunately, the ice was too 
slight to bear him. He sunk half way 
into the water, and was much hurt by the 
edges of the ice that surrounded him, in 
his struggles to escape. Hither the oxen 
followed him. Invigorated now by appre- 
hension, he ploughed up the ice before 
him ; for every piece on which he rested, 
instantly gave way; and with excessive 
pain and difficulty reached the opposite 
bank. This was so steep, that his efforts 
to scale it terminated only in as many falls 


KEEPER’S TRAVELS. 


63 


upon the broken ice and water; and two 
or three of the oxen who had been imped- 
ed by the ice, came round to wait his land- 
ing. In this dilemma he worked his way 
to another edge of the pool, and, leaping 
over a gate, gained an extensive meadow. 
He had not time to felicitate himself on 
his deliverance, before he perceived other 
cattle coming towards him, with threaten- 
ing gestures, stamping the ground, and 
lifting their tails in the attitude of rage. 
Keeper ran : but he presently found him- 
self meeting one who was driving furious- 
ly at him. He stood still, gazing on the 
foaming beast: the beast also stood still. 
He perceived a gap which led to an ad- 
joining field, and which was stopped up 
with a thin hurdle, and dead bushes. He 
made toward this, and creeping through 
it in a moment, fancied himself safe. The 
beast had pursued him close, and almost 
at the very instant in which Keeper pass- 
ed, ran his horns between the bars of the 


64 


KEEPER’S TRAVELS. 


hurdle. The whole barrier gave way be- 
fore the fury of the enraged animal ; who 
tossed the hurdle furiously into the air; 
and tore, with the rest of the herd, in pur- 
suit of Keeper. A path crossed this field 
which Keeper immediately gained, and 
fled onward where a few soldiers were 
walking to the town. The soldiers alarm- 
ed at the sudden approach of the cattle, in 
this angry mood, immediately ran away, 
which conduct only increased their dan- 
ger. They were even foolish enough to 
beat the drums they had with them. 
Keeper fled to them for succor, and by 
so doing made them sharers in his danger ; 
and they, by their behavior, drew more 
completely on him and themselves, the 
anger of the common enemy. In this 
dangerous situation, which they met so ig- 
norantly, or imprudently, it can scarcely 
be thought that any thing could have sav- 
ed them, had not a gentleman, coming the 
other way, perceiving their predicament, 


KEEPER’S TRAVELS. 


65 


called out to them to stand still, to face 
the oxen, and to cease the noise of the 
drum. This was no sooner done than the 
cattle stopped. Then, wheeling round, 
they sped to some distance, and again ad- 
vanced, as if determined to attack. In a 
few seconds they wheeled again, and at 
the end of every evolution they were near- 
er the terrified passengers than before. 

The gentleman now coming up, directed 
the party to pretend to meet the oxen. 
This behavior, together with waving their 
hats, s?icks, and other such actions, soon 
enabled them to quit the field in safety. 

The gentleman cautioned the soldiers 
that, if a similar accident at any time befell 
them, the most dangerous conduct possi- 
ble is, to run hastily away. ‘ I was once/ 
said he, ‘somewhat in your situation. I 
found that whenever I turned my back, 
the animals galloped toward me; and I 
escaped by walking backward, slowly, and 
repeatedly menacing with my stick. The 
6 


66 


KEEPER’S TRAVELS. 


beasts frequently advanced, but were 
checked by my movements. These I 
practised until I had reached a gate; when, 
springing hastily, I secured myself from 
danger.’ 

The travellers parted. Keeper gained 
the road by a circuitous course, which 
brought him into it at some distance from 
the scene of his first alarm. 


CHAP. XII. 

A SKIRMISH. 

Keeper was very sore from the difficul- 
ties of his adventures ; but his spirits were 
elated by the success of his efforts. He 
travelled with persisting quickness, al- 
though he soon became oppressed by fa- 
tigue, by hunger, and by thirst. He was 
many times disappointed by the appearance 
of water which he found to be covered with 
ice ; and this he could only lick : for he had 


KEEPER'S TRAVELS. 


67 


not judgment enough to dream of breaking 
the surface. 

Night-iall came on: it increased the 
coldness of the air, and it involved him in 
darkness. Still, however, he continued 
plodding e his weary way/ 

Midnight passed while he was yet many 
mOes from the house of his master's fr iend. 
He was scarcely able to go on ; but he 
knew that he was approaching the place 
of his destination ; and the thought encour- 
aged him to exert all his power and his 
perseverance. A clock struck three, and 
though he knew not the meaning of the 
sound, he recollected to have heard it at 
the house whither he was bent. His heart 
leaped for joy ; and he presently entered 
the yard gate, the way he had been used 
to go in with the horses. No creature 
was to be seen, nor any noise to be heard, 
save the rustling of the horses at their man- 
gers. After scratching at one or two of 
the doors without obtaining admittance, he 


68 


KEEPER’S TRAVELS. 


lay down under a crib, upon some hay that 
had fallen from it, first walking round, and 
smelling his intended couch. Here, cold 
and damp, as it was, for night was at 
work, encrusting every blade, and pipe of 
straw, with frozen dew, yet here, cold and 
damp as it was, Keeper lay in luxury ; 
and rested from his fatigues and his dangers 
for more than two hours. He was awak- 
ened by footsteps, and whispering voices ; 
and immediately sprung toward the sound, 
barking vehemently. Two men who were 
opening the granary door, threw stones at 
him, to intimidate his watchfulness, but this 
only increased his fury, and confirmed his 
suspicions. People were now heard in the 
house, opening the windows. The thieves 
therefore fled with precipitation. The 
master of the house saw one of them 
climbing over the paling, and immediately 
despatched the groom, who was most com- 
pletely dressed, in pursuit of the robbers. 
The master was surprised to find himself 


KEEPER’S TRAVELS. 


69 


roused by a dog whose voice he did not 
know, while his own dogs were silent, and 
not to be found. Immediately on seeing 
Keeper, he recollected him to be the dog 
of his friend ; and received him with the 
same cordiality which Keeper, on his part, 
evinced at their meeting. He found that 
nothing had been carried away : but that 
it was certainly intended that the granary 
should have been pillaged ; and he attribut- 
ed the preservation of his property wholly 
to Keeper’s vigilance. On this account, 
as well as because it was the dog of a very 
intimate friend, he paid him particular at- 
tention. He brought him into the house, 
and gave him food, of which Keeper stood 
much in need. In the meantime the 
groom returned, saying, that he was not 
able to track the villains ; and with him 
came the yard dogs, whom he pretended 
to have found straggling at some distance. 
He wished to persuade his master that the 
dogs had been decoyed away, in order to 


70 


KEEPER’S TRAVELS. 


prevent the family from being apprized of 
the robbery. With respect to the motive, 
he was correct : of the rest, the truth was 
that himself had muzzled the dogs, and 
lodged them in a bam at some distance 
from the premises. 

Keeper had a particular aversion to any 
tinkling or clanking noise ; and this was 
one of the few things that never failed to 
irritate him. The gentleman at whose 
house he now was, hoping to see his mas- 
ter, had several children, and among them 
a son, of about sixteen’ or seventeen years 
of age, whose name was Frederic. On 
the evening of the day on which Keeper 
arrived, the young ’squire was visited by a 
friend not quite so old as himself, who had 
lately engaged in military life. This young 
gentleman accidentally discovering Keep- 
er’s infirmity, found great entertainment in 
provoking him to bark at, and attack the 
fire-tongs, which he snapped incessantly, 
for this purpose, close to Keeper’s head. 


KEEPER’S TRAVELS. 


71 


Although this game was rather too noisy to 
afford much pleasure to the rest of the 
company ; it might have gone on with con- 
siderable spirit, had not the soldier, with 
martial intrepidity, ventured to increase the 
exasperation till Keeper burst furiously 
upon him. The hero was no sooner 
attacked in his turn, than dropping the 
weapon of offence, he sprang backward, 
with a violent shriek, almost over his chair. 
Recovered from this alarm, which ended 
without mischief, he again applied the tongs 
to Keeper’s annoyance ; and, at length, 
stooped his head, and put his own nose 
in Keeper’s way, who instantly snapped at 
it, and pierced his upper lip. This kind of 
hurt usually causes an involuntary and in- 
stantaneous starting of tears, which flowed 
pretty freely on this occasion, while the 
blood trickled from the lip and forgot its 
usual office : ‘ to blush and beautify the 
face.’ The son of Mars certainly did not 
look quite so brave as at the beginning of 


72 


KEEPER’S TRAVELS. 


the fight : yet, it is to be remembered, to 
his honour, that he bore no malice to the 
victor. On the contrary, he sustained the 
fortune of war w T ith becoming equanimity. 
In compliment, however, to the wounded 
knight, the master of the house thought 
proper to order Keeper out of the room, 
though neither he, nor any one else, blam- 
ed the part which Keeper had acted. 

It was directed that Keeper should be 
tied up in the stable, that he might be 
preserved for his own master ; where he 
slept comfortably till morning introduced a 
scene of new disasters 


CHAP. XIII. 

THE NIGHTINGALE. 

Frederic came by eight o’clock to visit 
the stranger. He had scarcely entered the 
stable when he observed some drops of 
blood, and scattered feathers, which he in- 
stantly knew to have belonged to a night- 


KEEPER’S TRAVELS. 


73 


ingale that he had, and of which he was 
exceedingly fond. He flew to be con- 
vinced of the loss of his bird, and findin g 
the cage empty, immediately charged 
Keeper with the crime of killin g and eat- 
ing his favorite. 

The first person he met, was the groom ; 
and to him he related the story of Keeper’s 
atrocious crime. The groom, it may be 
suspected, was glad of an opportunity of 
vengeance on the vigilant and faithful 
Keeper. He expressed much concern at 
his young master’s loss, and inveighed 
against the author of it in the bitterest 
terms. Frederic vowed to be avenged 
of the murderer of his bird; in which 
design the groom encouraged him, and 
strongly recommended that he should be 
immediately hung at the stable door. 

F rederic was mightily pleased with this 
project ; he forgot that he should in so do- 
ing commit the very crime for which, as 
he idly fancied, a love of goodness, and 
7 ' 


74 


KEEPER’S TRAVELS. 


abhorrence of cruelty, prompted him to 
punish Keeper. He forgot that Keeper 
could have no other motive for killing the 
bird than the gratification of his own wants, 
an excuse which himself certainly could 
not plead. 

The truth is, that it was not a love of 
goodness, but of power, that prompted the 
‘ little tyrant ’ to this act of authority. The 
offence was a mere pretext for this deed 
of pretended justice, but of real barbarity. 
Accordingly it was not sufficient that the 
life of the dog should pay for the life of 
the bird. He adopted the proposal of 
hanging Keeper, but the summary and 
unceremonious manner suggested by the 
groom did not meet his approbation. He 
amused himself with planning the etiquette 
to be observed on the occasion, and order- 
ed the culprit into close confinement, while 
he went to collect his brothers, his sisters, 
and his neighbors, to be witnesses of the 
sight. 


KEEPER’S TRAVELS. 


75 


His father happened to be gone on a 
short journey this morning, so that no in- 
terruption was to be apprehended from 
him : and his mother saw nothing but mys- 
tery and eagerness in the faces of the chil- 
dren, whom she supposed to be engaged 
in some great, but she did not think crimi- 
nal, exploit. 

The spectators being assembled with a 
mixture of expectation, and terror in their 
countenances, the prisoner was conveyed, 
with much formality, to a part of the gar- 
den, where the remaining feathers of the 
nightingale were deposited. Matters were 
now prepared to hang Keeper over the 
grave; who much to the discomfiture of 
the starched faces that were met on this 
solemn occasion, was so indecorous as to 
play with a piece of stick, and sometimes 
with the rope that was fastened round his 
neck, during the whole of the ceremony. 

Having exhausted their ingenuity in in- 
venting schemes for prolonging their wicked 


76 


KEEPER’S TRAVELS. 


pleasure, the fatal moment at length arrived 
that was to put an end to Keeper’s exist- 
ence. To separate him forever from the 
master whom he had sought so ardently 
and loved so dearly; to destroy those hopes 
for which he had suffered so many hard- 
ships; and to take away that life which 
Caroline had cherished so tenderly! 

The cord was now drawn, and the 
unconscious victim of infantine barbarity 
suspended from a bough. 


CHAP. XIV. 

THE EPITAPH. 

A voice now called their attention, and 
their father was seen hastening up the walk. 
He commanded that Keeper should be 
released : but their confusion was so great 
that he came to the spot before his orders 
were obeyed, and instantly replaced Keep- 
er on his feet. 

He reprimanded them severely, and in- 


KEEPER’S TRAVELS. 


77 


quired the cause of so extraordinary an act 
of cruelty, which was, beside, an unpar- 
donable insult to his friend, the owner of 
the dog. 

The charge of killing the nightingale 
was brought forward. This, however, 
their father would not admit as any ex- 
cuse. He next asked, who had suggested 
the idea of hanging the dog on this , ac- 
count? On hearing that the groom was 
the author of the detestable plan, he im- 
mediately dismissed him from his service; 
and having now some proofs of his being 
concerned in the intended robbery, caused 
him to be sent to gaol. 

One of the servants came running with 
a wing, and part of the head which he had 
found in the cat’s habitation. This dis- 
covery entirely freed Keeper from the 
charge. Particularly as dogs seldom or 
never eat the animals they kill ; while cats 
almost always make a feast of their spoil. 

Frederic remained in extreme dis- 


♦** 


78 KEEPER’S TRAVELS. 

grace : from which he was at length releas- 
ed, sincerely regretting that he had ever 
intended any thing so unbecoming his gen- 
eral good disposition, and understanding. 
Convinced that Keeper was wholly inno- 
cent of his bird’s destruction, he only 
regretted its loss. He erected a monu- 
ment to its memory, whereon he inscribed 
ed the following verse. 

EPITAPH ON A NIGHTINGALE. 

My beautiful bird ! 

I’ 11 think of thee long 
With thy plumage bright. 

And thy happy song ! 

This stone, when it meets 
The stranger’s gaze, 

Will tell how I lost thee 
In early days. 

The whistling boy 
As he passes by, 

Will linger awhile. 

And hush with a sigh. 

And then he may haste 
To his cage, and free 
The bird, which he stole 
From the forest tree. 




KEEPER’S TRAVELS. 


79 


For wings that were made 
To rove in the air, 

Must long for their 
Wildness of motion there. 
Oh ! I wish iny bird 
Had staid in her glen. 

Far from *he snares 
Of pussies and men. 


CHAP. XV. 

THE RABBIT-WARREN. 

In the meantime, Keeper took the first 
opportunity, after his fortunate release, to 
leave a house where he had, though great- 
ly against the master’s wish, received so 
much ill treatment. Unable to discover 
his master, and having visited every place 
in which he could expect to find him, near- 
er than his own house, he now began his 
route thither, determined to let nothing de- 
lay his progress if he could possibly avoid 
it. He kept this resolution pretty regular- 
ly: yet he could not help running after 


80 


KEEPER’S TRAVELS. 


sparrows, now and then ; and he was much 
at a loss to account for their disappearance 
at his approach. 

He continued travelling during several 
days ; sometimes relieved from hunger, by 
finding a bone in his way through villages; 
and from fatigue, by resting under hedges, 
and on sunny banks. Sometimes fed : but, 
for the most part, oppressed by want and 
weariness. 

At length his incessant exertion brought 
him as far as an extensive waste that lay 
on lofty hills. Huge blocks of stone peep- 
ed out in various parts ; and the whole was 
scantily supplied with herbage. Here 
Keeper saw whole families of Rabbits 
racing in every direction, and he ran an 
hundred different ways in. pursuit of them, 
as the cld groups suddenly disappeared, 
and new ones became visible. Presently 
none were to be seen : and, while Keeper 
wondered at the change, a kite hovered 
over the place, and alarmed the whole 


KEEPER’S TRAVELS. 


81 


long-eared neighborhood. Keeper too had 
contributed to their consternation : and 
he, not distracted, now, by the variety 
of his game, pursued one of the gray fu- 
gitives into its burrow. He was soon im- 
peded by the straitness of the pathyiand 
he spent a considerable time in scratching 
his way. The earth, though now frozen, 
was extremely light, and sandy : so that, 
when he had dug away the uppermost 
part, he soon covered himself with dirt : 
but this was all he could do. Meanwhile, 
the rabbits endured all the horrors of a 
siege : till Keeper recollecting his master, 
‘ raised it,’ and continued his progress. 

While Keeper was running in many a 
serpentine direction, through alleys fenced 
by thorns, and withered /era, in his way to 
the high road, the keeper of the warren, 
who happened to be at that time on the 
spot, observed our intruder, and immedi- 
ately fired upon him. Keeper escaped 
unhurt, and ran impetuously along until he 


82 


KEEPER’S TRAVELS. 


reached the road, and was lost to the 
gamekeeper. Having been wounded when 
he last heard a similat-nQise, he made no 
doubt but he was, again, equally injured; 
and it was not before he had passed several 
houj}s, without feeling pain, that he recov- 
ered his spirits and his peace. 


CHAP. XVI. 

THE CONTRAST OF BRUTALITY 
AND SENSIBILITY. _ 

Our honest traveller now drew near the 
home he panted for : panted for, IT&cause it 
contained the long lost friend whom he so 
diligently sought. His little heart beat 
high with expectation : his eager feet re- 
doubled their speed ; and he was absorbed 
in the recollection of his master’s kind- 
nesses. 

Happy would it have been for Keeper 
had he remembered his admonitions also : 
for, at that unlucky moment, an unmanaged 


KEEPER’S TRAVELS. 


83 


horse galloped past him, which a man was 
endeavoring to lead to a neighboring forge 
to be rough-shod. A precaution very 
necessary, as the frost still continued. 
Keeper could not forbear assailing his 
heels : by which imprudence our hero re- 
ceived a kick that laid him in the 5ust. 
Stunned by the blow, he was insensible to 
any thing, until, waking to sorrow and re- 
pentance, he found himself, fastened by a 
cord, in a comer of a blacksmith’s shop ; 
to the door of which dismal region of 
noise and flames he had so rashly followed 
the animal that bruised him. To this 
confinement the sons of Vulcan had con- 
demned him; in order as they said, ‘ to 
see if they could not have some sport with 
the young cur, yet ! ’ Several days pass- 
ed, however, without affording them leisure 
either to hang, or to worry the captive. 
Neither the tin kettle nor the halter were 
yet ready. The poor creature would 
probably have been rescued from both by 


84 


KEEPER’S TRAVELS. 


the arm of famine, had he not picked up 
the parings of the horse’s hoofs that hap- 
pened to lay near him : this, with the snow 
that fell through the crazy roof of his pris- 
on, was the whole of his miserable subsist- 
ence. 

Ah ! thought the sagacious, the guileless, 
but impetuous Keeper, why did I quit 
the path of duty ? Why did I forget my 
kind master, who has so often warned me 
from the fault that has brought me hither ? 
Thus, in mournful plainings did he waste 
the tedious days of captivity and sorrow, 
till one propitious morning brought him a 
deliverer. 

The young gentleman, who released 
Keeper, was the only son of the ’squire of 
the village, wherein the accident happened. 
He had come with his father’s groom to 
give directions respecting a pony of his 
own, that was, on that day, to have his first 
shoes. He was about nine years of age, 
of a good-natured and generous disposition, 
and was just come home for the holidays. 


KEEPER’S TRAVELS. 


85 


‘Why should not that poor animal be 
set at liberty ? ’ He asked, as he cast his 
eye upon the miserable, shivering, half- 
starved. Keeper. 

* You shall have him for a crown,’ re- 
joined the Blacksmith. 

4 I have not so much in my poclcet : 1 
said the young ’squire: 4 but, at home, I 
have a crown piece, given me this morning, 
by my grandmamma, to buy a twelfth- 
cake with : I will run home and fetch my 
crown piece ! ’ 

He was out of sight in a moment, and 
soon returned with the crown piece and his 
knife ; that he might have the pleasure of 
releasing Keeper himself. The difference 
between this conduct, and that of Frederic, 
in the preceding chapter, will strike every 
reader; and to which of the two the attri- 
bute of merit belongs: to which the ap- 
plause of the good, and the gratification of 
the heart, appertains, will be equally obvi- 


ous. 







KEEPER’S TRAVELS. 


87 


Having accomplished this undertaking, 
he immediately carried Keeper home, in 
his arms, to his papa, who commended 
his son’s humanity ; and these commenda- 
tions, with those of his own heart, more 
than repaid him for the loss of his twelfth- 
cake. 

Keeper, from his good manners, and 
good temper, soon became a universal fa- 
vorite in the family ; and was the perfect 
idol of his new master. Insomuch that 
could the faithful dog have ever forgot the 
object of his journey, it would have been 
in this abode of indulgence and of rest. 
On the contrary, however, the same senti- 
ment of gratitude that endeared this, his 
recent deliverer, perpetuated the recollec- 
tion and esteem of him to whom he owed 
earlier, and, perhaps, greater, obligations. 
Consequently, therefore, he waited with 
anxiety for the first opportunity that might 
offer itself, to renew his researches. 
Meanwhile, the vigilance with which his 


88 


KEEPER’S TRAVELS. 


young master preserved his prize, seemed 
to preclude all possibility of escape. 

Among the methods which he used in 
order to detain Keeper, he tied him 
to a four-wheel wagon, a Christmas-gift, 
whenever he went out. Considering this 
and other contrivances of the same nature, 
it is not to be wondered that, notwith- 
standing the caresses bestowed upon him, 
Keeper passed his time very unhappily, 
despairing of his liberty. At length, how- 
ever, his vacation ended ; and his kind 
persecutor was obliged to leave him, and 
set off, with a sorrowful countenance for 
school. He departed, after having kissed 
Keeper many times, and enjoining the 
family to be sure to take care of him till 
his return. 

He was no sooner gone than, maugre 
these instructions, Keeper found no diffi- 
culty in getting away; resolved, once 
more, to seek his master with undeviating 
feet. 


KEEPER’S TRAVELS. 


89 


CHAP. XVII. 

THE FALL OF SNOW. 

The weather was not so fine as in 
the former part of his journey. It was 
gloomy, and intensely cold, and, at length, 
a heavy fall of snow succeeded. When 
it first began to descend, Keeper amused 
himself with chasing the flakes, which he 
mistook for feathers. Having caught one 
in his mouth, he felt in every part of it 
with his tongue, to discover his prize. A 
little time convinced him that it was meta- 
morphosed into water; and, now, his coat 
was covered with the snow, which, melt- 
ing, rendered his skin wet, and his whole 
condition deplorable. Keeper continued 
on, nevertheless, till, toward evening, 
finding that his legs sunk, almost entirely, 
at every step, while his back was loaded 
with the frozen water, and being, beside, 

exceedingly fatigued, he sheltered himself 
8 


90 


KEEPER’S TRAVELS. 


in a hollow tree : where, having shaken as 
much of the wet from him, as possible, he 
lay down, and slept soundly till daylight 
In the meantime, the descent of snow 
had been so immense that the aperture, 
by which he had entered, was wholly 
blocked up. This had kept him warmer 
than he would otherwise have been: but 
it now made him a prisoner, like Shak- 
speare’s Ariel , in the trunk of a knotty 
oak. He scratched the blockade, and it 
easily admitted his paws: but, though a 
tolerably good miner, his abilities on this 
occasion availed him nothing : for the 
snow, by which he was enclosed, extend- 
ed in one continued sheet, and lay, two or 
three feet thick, upon the ground. Des- 
pairing of deliverance, he turned round, 
and, to his joy, discovered light, in an ob- 
lique direction, at the upper part of the 
tree. This was, indeed, the only source 
from which light had been received into 
his cage : but he had not hitherto perceiv- 


KEEPER'S TRAVELS. 


91 


ed it. He climbed hastily, and with ease, 
to this daystar of liberty. He exulted in 
its beams; and ascended toward it without 
apprehending any new difficulty. He did 
not know that though it could cheer and 
console his confinement, it could not 
ensure his happiness in emancipation. 
There is, it must be allowed, a common 
error on this subject: for the splendid 
luminary of freedom is supposed, by many 
people, to have more power than it really 
has. He gained the open air, and was, 
at first, disappointed to find that the gate- 
way was not even with the ground. He 
looked about during some moments, with 
a melancholy face, at the unvaried but 
dazzling landscape : — then, forgetting its 
soft contexture, he leaped from the tree, 
and was instantly buried up to the head in 
snow ; the vast body of which, though not 
firm enough to support him, and so unsta- 
ble as to drift with every wind, yet yielded 
but little to his endeavors to extricate him- 


92 


KEEPER’S TRAVELS. 




KEEPER’S TRAVELS. 


93 


self. When on the tree, he had perceived 
a road marked out by the passing of one 
or two carriages: but, in his present low 
situation, this disappeared by enchantment, 
as it seemed to him. Nothing presented 
itself to his view, but one wide prospect of 
insipid and chilling whiteness. No sunny 
spot enlivened the distant view to console 
the weary and desponding traveller, but, 
in miserable snowy perspective, 

* Hills peeped o’er hills, and Alps on Alps arose ! ’ 

Gusts of wind frequently agitated the 
powdery expanse, and scattered its frozen 
particles on Keeper’s defenceless head. 
It was his solace, in the midst of these 
troubles, that he had not incurred this , 
like his last , disaster, by any fault of his 
own ; but, now, solace and trouble, pain, 
and pleasure, were approaching to an end. 
He howled piteously; and the blast bore 
his groans over the solitary waste. His 
murmurs became fainter, and less inces- 
sant. His body grew stiff; and the last 


94 


KEEPER’S TRAVELS. 


remaining warmth of life was about to 
leave him. Even the recollection of his 
master became indistinct and lifeless, as 
the view before him had been : but now 
his eyes were closed. One look, one 
short and little look, he wished for ; and 
his wildered fancy cheered his expiring 
moments with the form, and features of 
his master, he fancied that this friend of 
his life was endeavoring to rescue him 
from his misery. He thought that his 
warm hand was on his neck.. He thought 
that he dug away the perishing snow. 
The idea became still less distinct: he 
even thought himself relieved from his 
misery. He fancied himself in the arms 
of his master. He was happy. He was 
insensible. 


KEEPER’S TRAVELS. 


95 


CHAP. XVIII. 

DIS APPOINTMENT. 

Attracted by Keeper’s howling, a peas- 
ant, who was going home to dinner, had 
waded through the snow, and taken him 
in his arms. It was this reality that had 
been distorted, by Keeper’s imagination, 
« into a vision of his master. 

The peasant thought Keeper dead: yet 
he resolved to carry him home, and try 
what the little warmth his cottage afforded 
would do for his recovery. He wrapped 
him up in a sack, and bore him to his 
hovel that barely sheltered him and his 
family from the winds and the rains. 

There the good woman fanned away 
the embers from a part of the hearth, and 
laid Keeper on the warm tiles. She rub- 
bed him, and she lessened her little store 
of dried gorse or furz, to raise a fire that 


96 


KEEPER’S TRAVELS. 


might reinvigorate him. Toward evening, 
Keeper began to recover, or, as he fan- 
cied, to awake. His senses returning by 
degrees, he looked round for his master, 
and barked at the strangers whom he 
saw. Unacquainted with his motives, they 
thought this an ungrateful return for their 
kindness, and therefore turned him out of 
doors. He, wondering what had befallen 
him since he fell asleep in the snow, re- 
collected the cottage to be in his way home, 
and anticipated a speedy restoration to 
his master, whom he still thought he had 
seen in the day, but again missed in a 
most unaccountable manner. 

It was moonlight, when, about ten 
o’clock, the gates of his master were be- 
fore his eyes. He ran toward them in 
rapture, and creeping under rushed in an 
agony of joy to the kitchen door. Scratch- 
ing violently, it was opened, and he ran 
round the kitchen, using every gesture, and 
tone of voice, by which he could express his 


KEEPER’S TRAVELS. 


97 


pleasure. He was somewhat disappoint- 
ed to find the servants strangers to him 
while they began to be alarmed at his 
entrance. The women screamed, and 
the men prepared to attack Keeper with 
broomsticks. He, eluding their aim, dart- 
ed into the inner part of the house, to visit 
the parlor. There the noise of the ser- 
vants had spread the consternation, when 
Keeper terrified the whole company by his 
appearance. 

What might have been his fate had it 
not been for a gentleman who quieted the 
agitation of the party, cannot be deter- 
mined. He assured them that no danger 
was to be apprehended from the dog, who 
only seemed to be in high spirits, on 
some account or other, notwithstanding his 
starved condition. The conclusion of this 
remark was so well justified by Keeper’s 
appearance, that all were desirous to see 
him well fed ; and Keeper revelled in lux- 
ury during the whole evening: anxious, 
9 


98 


KEEPER’S TRAVELS. 


nevertheless, that his master was not to be 
seen. He whined at the door, and the in- 
dulgent gentleman having opened it, he 
searched the whole house over, hoping to 
find his master ; but, disappointed, he re- 
turned again to the parlor, and scratching 
at the door was again admitted. 

Every creature in the house was as 
strange to Keeper, as he was strange to 
them. The furniture, also, was new to him. 

Since Keeper had parted from his mas- 
ter, that gentleman having sold his house 
advantageously, had removed to a more 
splendid habitation, at some distance from 
his former abode. Thus the reader is 
apprized of those circumstances that ren- 
dered Keeper still at a loss for his master, 
although he had arrived at, what he con- 
sidered, his master’s house. 

Keeper’s behavior led the new comers 
to guess with tolerable correctness, the 
occasion of his visit. All were of opinion 
that the dog had lost his master, and the 


KEEPER’S TRAVELS. 


99 


gentleman who had befriended him ad- 
vised that it should be inquired if he had 
belonged to the former owner of the place. 
This was only a visiter, however; and 
though his advice was graciously received, 
it was totally disregarded, which is too 
often the case especially when given to 
young people. 


CHAP. XIX. 

COURAGE. 

It may be frequently observed, of ani- 
mals, and of dogs chiefly, because with 
that class we are most intimately acquaint- 
ed, that they are alarmed at objects which 
can do them no injury; sometimes small 
and insignificant; and, not unseldom, inan- 
imate. Keeper had lain quietly before 
the fire, while much conversation passed 
respecting him. He was not asleep, but 
had remained fixed in profound rumination 
on his disappointed hopes, his perilous 


100 


KEEPER'S TRAVELS. 


journey, and his future expectations, when, 
turning his head toward the door, which 
some noise had occasioned him to think 
was about to be opened, and, possibly, 
by his master, his eye was attracted by a 
something, black as to color, and shape- 
less, or indefinite with respect to its con- 
tour or outline. For as the subject of his 
attention lay in deep shade under a chair, 
its color and its form mingled with the 
darkness that surrounded it; and owing 
to this indistinctness, it might, probably, 
assume a hundred different appearances, 
changing and succeeding with the conjec- 
tures of Keeper’s imagination. After 
looking at it very attentively during some 
minutes he concluded that, whatever it 
might be, both his duty and his inclination 
called upon him to repel the intruder. 
Something was yet wanting to equip him 
for the adventure : this was resolution or 
courage : and let not the brave be too has- 
ty to cast the reproach of cowardice on his 


KEEPER’S TRAVELS. 


101 


delay. The most valorous chieftain would 
be terrified at the appearance of a monster 
in the field of battle: his useless spear, his 
armor, and his shield, would but incum- 
ber his retreat. It is related of Marshal 
Turenne, whose name has been ever, and 
justly, coupled with ‘ daring do ’ and brav- 
ery, that being in the King’s tent, when a 
famous stone-eater was boasting his ex- 
ploits, and his capacities, the impostor 
told his Majesty that, if he pleased, he 
would ‘ swallow that gentleman’ (the 
Marshal) 4 whole, armor, and all!’ The 
Marshal no sooner heard this extravagant 
proposal than he fled to his marque in the 
utmost dismay ; and it was with difficulty 
that the King persuaded him, even on the 
next day, to venture from the security of 
his hiding place. This was not cowar- 
dice : it was credulity. If the Marshal 
believed, as plainly he did, that it was 
possible for the knave to eat him and his 
armor, his consequent behavior was but 


102 


KEEPER’S TRAVELS. 


timely prudence, and the result of the ra- 
tional wish of self-preservation : for what 
would his sword and his valor have avail- 
ed against an enemy who could destroy 
his opposer at a bite. 

Courage* is, in truth, that venturous 
disposition of the mind which we applaud 
as brave and wise, or stigmatize as rash 
and fool-hardy, as it happens to succeed 
in its enterprise, or accord with our own 
opinions of the occasion of its exertion. 

Keeper was not, then, cowardly: had 
the thing that alarmed him been a cat, a 
rat, or a bird ; nay had a dozen thieves 
forced their passage into the room, Jie 
would have rushed on them with as much 
dauntless intrepidity as would equal a sol- 
dier’s own story of his battles : but he was 
frightened agreeably with what has been 
said, because he could not comprehend 
the occasion of his terror. Determined 


* It is to be understood, that the passive quality, 
which we call fortitude , is not here spoken of. 


KEEPER’S TRAVELS. 


103 


at last, to examine the dreadful something 
that lay under the chair, he left the 
hearth, and approached with cautious 
steps. When he had arrived within a 
certain distance without ascertaining what 
the terrific appearance might be, he re- 
treated a few steps, and again advanced, 
in another direction toward the centre of 
attraction. Still, however, he kept at an 
awful distance, and, barking, sat down to 
watch its continuance, and its conduct. 
His behavior had gained the observation 
of the company, and they regarded his 
motions with curiosity. As they were 
entirely ignorant of the matter that had 
drawn Keeper’s notice, they were pres- 
ently anxious to discover what was con- 
cealed under the chair, to which he point- 
ed. Some were afraid of danger; and 
some were desirous to witness the various 
antics that Keeper played on the occasion, 
so that a few moments passed before the 
latent wonder was sought for. Keeper, 


/ 


104 


KEEPER’S TRAVELS. 


being set on, began a furious attack : but 
did not advance many paces nearer his 
foe than before. He contented himself 
with loud threatenings of his wrath, and 
vauntings of his prowess. He tried the 
right hand and the left to no purpose ; and 
again sat down to watch and to bark. 
The inquisitiveness of the spectators de- 
manded an explanation : grasping there- 
fore a candle in one hand, and the poker 
in the other, one of the party marched 
toward the object. Dazzled by the flame, 
which he held close to his nose, he did 
not perceive that the poker was approach- 
ing Keeper’s ribs. Keeper no sooner 
felt the burn than, turning, he came be- 
tween the feet of the gentleman : the dog 
was trod upon : the man was bit : both 
roared out, and were presently struggling 
together, with the extinguished candle, and 
the fiery poker. The lookers-on caught 
the alarm ; one overturned the table, in his 
escape ; and the room was deserted amid 
the shrieks of frightened females. 


KEEPER’S TRAVELS. 


105 


CHAP. XX. 

THE DISCOVERY. 

Ne let hobgoblins, names whose sense we see not, 
Fray us with things that be not. Spenser. 

The party having rallied their spirits, 
returned to the scene of their disasters ; 
when a cautious search having been made, 
by the whole troop in^grand muster, some 
few standing boldly in the van, others 
peeping over the shoulders of these ventu- 
rous souls ; some with their hands on the 
chairs, prepared to hurl them on the giant 
that lay squeezed under the stool ; and one 
or two at the half-opened door, ready to 
make their escape, when the mystery 
should be revealed. The group being 
stationed somewhat in this manner, and 
cautious search having been made, there 
was discovered — a black hearth brush ! 
which Keeper’s dream had magnified 
into a grisly Bear 


106 


KEEPER’S TRAVELS. 


Most were ready to censure Keeper’s 
timidity, forgetful of their own share in 
the farce that had been acted : but Keep- 
er’s friend reminded them of this, and then 
excused every one alike. Keeper, whose 
burns still tingled, now became the object 
of consideration ; and turpentine being ap- 
plied, he was materially relieved. The 
bite he had given was found to be of no 
importance ; and his provocation was ac- 
knowledged. 

The whole matter was afterwards the 
subject of mirthful recollection. Keeper 
only retained a woful countenance: he 
still felt pain ; and he still missed his mas- 
ter. 


CHAP. XXI. 

ILLUSIONS. 

The gentleman who had interfered in 
Keeper’s behalf was a particularly good- 
natured man, and Keeper was his favor- 


KEEPER’S TRAVELS. 


107 


ite again, in the morning he gave Keeper 
sweet tea at breakfast, with which he was 
prodigiously delighted. Satiety will fol- 
low every enjoyment; and Keeper had 
drank enough of the tea sweet as it was. 
His friend then added milk and sugar; 
and the new temptation induced Keeper 
to take a new draught : its novelty abated, 
and he retired from this also. Made still 
more rich, and more sweet, he again in- 
dulged in a repetition of the debauch, until 
stupid from repletion, he lay down by the 
door, to cool and recover himself. 

The conversation at breakfast, was 
chiefly engrossed by the accident of the 
evening preceding. Inquiries how each 
other had rested after the fright, were re- 
ciprocally made. The unfortunate gentle- 
man who had fallen in the fray was the 
particular object of concern : and he, hap- 
pily suffered nothing from his misfortune. 

It was asked what could possibly have 
made the dog afraid of the broom? and 


108 


KEEPER’S TRAVELS. 


the reply insensibly led the dialogue into 
a discussion on the nature of Fear; re- 
specting which it was generally agreed 
that the object feared, is either something 
of known malignity and power; or which 
from its novelty and obscurity is totally 
unknown to us, and of which we are un- 
able to form any regular notions. ‘ It is 
astonishing,’ said Keeper’s friend, ‘ it is 
astonishing with what quickness and facil- 
ity the imagination gives shapes and 
meanings to appearances and sounds that 
are, in themselves, indistinct : and it is 
equally observable that the moment the re- 
ality is discovered, the deception ceases. 
I remember that, passing along a road on 
a night that was nearly dark, I saw a 
something of a white color on my way 
side. The foot-path was considerably 
above the level of the road ; and the top 
of this object was beneath my feet. In 
the space of two minutes, I fancied that it 
assumed several different forms : at first 


KEEPER’S TRAVELS. 


109 


I thought it a man, who, as I imagined, 
endeavored to crouch close under the 
bank on which I stood : a moment after it 
seemed a pig : and in another, a calf. I 
confess to you that I was alarmed : not 
that I thought it supernatural. I think 
that my fear was wholly founded on the 
apprehension of a robber. What strange 
ideas might have succeeded, had I suffered 
the delusion to continue, I cannot tell. I 
call them ideas : because the images were 
in my own brain, not in the object I looked 
at. Having spoken to it without receiv- 
ing an answer, I determined to touch it. 
I acknowledge that I did this with some 
trepidation, I stood as far off as I could, 
and, stretching out my arm, directed my 
stick, with the extremity of which I touch- 
ed the terrible thing that alarmed me. I 
cannot recite this circumstance without 
feeling a reiteration of the surprise I then 
experienced from finding that, at the very 
instant I touched the object, it was plainly 


110 


KEEPER’S TRAVELS. 


and obviously a post! I did not need the 
aid of light or minute examination : but 
merely touching it, and with a stick, I 
clearly knew it to be a post ! One remark 
immediately presents itself. Had men, at 
all times, examined any appearance that 
alarmed them, we never should have heard 
of witches, ghosts, and fairies : as this, 
however, unfortunately, has not been done, 
it remains for us, observing how naturally 
such errors may be maije, to disregard, as 
fabulous, every story respecting them.’ 


CHAP. XXII. 

KEEPER’S MASTER. 

During the period that had elapsed 
between Keeper’s departure from Caro- 
line, and the occurrence of the circumstan- 
ces, recorded in the latter chapters, the 
magistrate had happened to mention the 
story of Keeper’s misfortune, with that of 


KEEPER’S TRAVELS. 


Ill 


Mr. Walwyn, in the hearing of a gentle- 
man who was acquainted with his master, 
and who knew that he had lost his dog. 

The magistrate accompanied the subject 
with many and warm praises of Caroline’s 
kindness of Keeper; and the gentleman 
with whom this conversation occurred 
reported the whole to Keeper’s master, 
who immediately paid a visit to the 
magistrate, wishing to be farther informed 
of the matter. The magistrate related to 
him that, much to Caroline’s regret, the 
dog had left her. Keeper’s master was 
certain from the description that it was 
his dog, and felt grateful for the hospitality 
that had been shown to him. He accom- 
panied the magistrate to the apothecary’s 
house, to return his thanks, and, if possi- 
ble, to get some clue by which the wander- 
er might be found. 

Caroline said, that, beside lamenting the 
loss of the deg, it had concerned her that 
he left the house before he was thoroughly 


112 


KEEPER’S TRAVELS. 


recovered ; but she was now doubly griev- 
ed to find that he had not discovered the 
master, his fidelity to whom had with- 
drawn him from her. 

Keeper was the principal topic of ani- 
madversion during the whole visit: his 
absence was lamented ; his return desired ; 
and his merits extolled. The capacities 
of the whole race were descanted on, both 
as to their natural and acquired habits and 
endowments. With respect to the first it 
was mentioned, as remarkable, that so 
great an intimacy subsists between vultures 
and dogs in their wild state that they not 
only assemble together without contention 
to devour the dead carcasses of animals in 
America, from Nova- Scotia, to Terra del 
F uego ; but actually nurse their young in 
the same place. The Providence of the 
Creator, it was said, is very visible in 
causing this harmony between these rapa- 
cious creatures : for as it seems to have 
been intended that they should unite in 


KEEPER’S TRAVELS. 


113 


ridding the earth of putrescent animal 
bodies that might otherwise infect the air, 
it was essential that the uniformity of the 
design should not be destroyed by dissen- 
sions between themselves. To render 
them fit for this useful office, they are ex- 
posed to the cravings of an almost insatia- 
ble appetite ; and that species of the genus 
called the wo 7 f, in which this want appears 
to rage with most violence, is said to seek 
relief from the pain of extreme hunger by 
swallowing earth and stones. 

‘ We have no wolves in England, I 
believe ? ’ 

‘ They were extirpated before the end 
of the thirteenth century : prior to that pe- 
riod they were numerous in some of the 
counties. Sir Ewin Cameron of Locheil, 
is mentioned as the destroyer of the last in 
Scotland, in Lochaber, during the year 
1680 ; and the last in Ireland was killed so 
lately, as 1710. They are to be found in 
all the quarters of the world, as high as the 
arctic circle.’ 10 


114 


KEEPER’S TRAVELS. 


‘ Although’ said Keeper’s Master, 
c wolves, foxes, hyaenas, and jackals are 
joined by naturalists in the same genus 
on account of the similar conformation of 
their teeth, they bear little resemblance to 
each other in their manners. The jackal, 
indeed, *vvhen taken young, acquires the 
same affectionate disposition ; and is by 
some late authors supposed to be the orig- 
inal stock of all our various kinds of dogs ; 
and of the hyaena it may be observed, that 
one of the authors alluded to (Pennant) 
separates that species , making it a separate 
genus. ’ 

Of their social habits, and useful quali- 
ties, the substance of what was said, may 
be found in Cowper’s ‘Task : ’ where, con- 
demning cruelty to animals in general, he 
goes on to speak of dogs in particular. 

* Superior as we are, they yet depend 
Not more on human help, than we on theirs. 

Their strength, or speed, or vigilance were given 
In aid of our defects. In some are found 
Such teachable and apprehensive parts. 


KEEPER’S TRAVELS. 


115 


That man’s attainments in his own concerns, 
Matched with the expertness of the brute’s in theirs. 
Are ofttimes vanquished and thrown far behind. 
Some show that nice sagacity of smell, 

And read with such discernment, in the port 
And figure of the man, his secret aim. 

That oft we owe our safety to a skill 
We could not teach, and must despair to learn. 

But learn we might, if not too proud to stoop 
To quadruped instructers, many a good 
And useful quality, and virtue too, 

Rarely exemplified among ourselves : 

Affection never to be weaned, or changed 
By any change of fortune : proof alike 
Against unkindness, absence, and neglect : 

Fidelity, that neither bribe nor threat 
Can move nor warp : and gratitude for small 
And trivial favors, lasting as the life. 

And glist’ning even in the dying eye !’ 


CHAP. XXIII. 

THE POEM. 

Keeper’s master was much charmed 
with Caroline : and having heard from her 
the story of the dog’s introduction to her 
care, together with his behavior on the 


116 


KEEPER’S TRAVELS. 


morning before his departure, he wrote 
the following lines, and addressed them to 
Caroline, as an attempt to describe the 
feelings of his dog ; conveying at the same 
time his own sentiments. 

When my master I lost and I had to roam. 

Your pity kind lady gave me a home. 

I had travelled many a tedious day 
Without a friend on the wearisome way : 

With grief 1 hung down my ears, and my tail, 

My face as I passed by a brook, looked pale — 

It was you who watched o’er my bed of pain 
’Till I jumped with joy, and barked loud again. 

I ran oft' and left you, but meant to come back 
If ever I found my dear master’s track. 

For I wished my gentle lady to see 
What a grateful dog Keeper could be. 

I have felt my master’s caress, and yet 
That you saved my life, I cannot forget; 

Then tell me, Caroline, what can I do 
To stay with my master, and be with you 1 — 


CHAP. XXIV. 

THE CONCLUSION. 

The gentleman who had interfered in 
Keeper’s behalf had finished his visit ; and 
after his departure no notice was taken of 
his suggestion, that a message should be 


KEEPER’S TRAVELS 


117 









118 


KEEPER’S TRAVELS. 


sent to inquire if the former owner of the 
house had lost his dog: While Keeper, 
finding that his master did not appear, 
became spiritless, and pined daily. At 
length, a villager having seen Keeper, 
positively assured the family that the dog 
belonged to the ’squire who lived there 
before ; and was charged with the office 
of carrying the information. As Keeper 
could not be persuaded to follow him, he 
carried word to the master, of Keeper’s 
arrival. His master immediately came ; 
and Keeper was standing at the door when 
he saw him at a distance. He ran towards 
him, half frantic with delight. He endeav- 
ored to jump upon the horse, to reach him : 
but, not succeeding, his master alighted, 
and a scene of mutual gratulation took 
place. The mad and extravagant beha- 
vior by which Keeper evinced his joy, can 
scarcely be described ; while the master, 
on his part, felt, and displayed tokens of 
the most lively and sincere pleasure, at the 


KEEPER’S TRAVELS. 119 

restoration of an animal whose virtues he 
loved and whose loss he had deplored. 

He led Keeper to Caroline : when the 
pleasure of both on seeing one another 
again, seemed to realize the master’s poem. 
Between the apothecary too, and Keep- 
er, much friendly intercourse took place ; 
and the magistrate had his share of the 
honors of the meeting. 

Some compliments passed between Car- 
oline and the master, respecting who should 
now possess Keeper ? These polite dissen- 
sions were not, however, of long duration. 
Whether it was to accommodate Keep- 
er, who really disliked to part with Caro- 
line ; or from what other motive, it is not 
our province to inquire ; but so it happen- 
ed, Caroline and his master were married, 
and Keeper abided with both. 

He has lived since happily and at ease. 
Here ended his troubles. If the recital 
of them has afforded any entertainment : 
If it has given pleasure, to a tearful, or a 


120 


KEEPER’S TRAVELS. 


smiling countenance, the dog has not jour- 
neyed, nor the historian written , in vain: 
and if, in the contemplation of the morality 
occasionally inculcated, it shall be observed 
that, the whole narrative exhibits a series 
of misfortunes that were incurred by one 
single act of negligence : if it stamp on the 
memory of any reader this important les- 
son : one error, one dereliction from the 
path of right ; one moment’s inattention to, 
or abandonment of virtue, though trivial and 
harmless in itself, may expose us to the 
whole train of vices and sorrows : if such a 
lesson have been taught, and if it have 
been deeply impressed, the book will not 
be thought the less amusing, because it is 
instructive. 


THE END. 


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